


Cereal without the milk

by cammyohcammy



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-12
Updated: 2014-02-12
Packaged: 2018-01-12 03:33:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 886
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1181392
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cammyohcammy/pseuds/cammyohcammy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>When Dean walked in, Sam’s bony ass was sitting on the small counter top in the tiny motel kitchen eating cereal out of the box.</em>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cereal without the milk

**Author's Note:**

> Small thingy I wrote on tumblr.  
> I do not own SPN or any of its characters and everything in this story is untrue (unfortunately).  
> Sam is 16. Dean is around 19, maybe 20.

On a particular bad training day with his father, Dean stormed into the motel. Taining sessions were never really “fun" to begin with. After all, John raised a solider, and expected nothing short of perfection. Because in real combat with monsters, there was no room for flaws or error. Sam and Dean trained with their father separately, switching off every other day. Their father tended to go easier on Sam during training (even though John didn't want to admit it).

Today was Dean’s training day, and it was particularly bad, because during target practice, Dean missed the target (by what Dean _swore to god_ was not even an inch), and John exploded. _Why don’t you use your fucking head, Dean? Why don't you use what you know instead of going off of instinct, Dean? What if that target was a monster that had Sammy, Dean?_

 _No._ John could call Dean stupid until his face was blue and Dean wouldn't even flinch, but once he included Sam, suggesting that Dean would ever let something happen to _his_ Sammy, he had to walk away because if he would have listened to that any longer, his fist would have met John’s face (and he wouldn't have missed, either).

When Dean walked in, Sam’s bony ass was sitting on the small counter top in the tiny motel kitchen eating cereal out of the box. He was still in his boxers and his mop-like hair was messy in his face, indicating to Dean that he probably just woke up.

The sight of Sam brought his blood pressure down; made his breathing steady, made him see straight again. Sam had that effect on him. Sammy. Only Sammy. Always been Sammy.

Dean inwardly sighed and searched around for their dad’s journal (and ignoring Sam's _what happend?_ raised eyebrows), and eventually found it sitting on the counter top next to Sam. He wondered if he could find a spell that would make their dad less of a fucking dick. Or make him temporarily disappear. Maybe he'd even put a curse on him. He didn't know. But for some reason it made him feel better looking through it.

He felt a soft nudge at his leg from Sam’s foot, Sam obviously wanting attention, or to make Dean smile. Sam was a very good reader of Dean’s emotions, and very aware of him and their dad’s strained relationship, not that it was much of a secret.

Dean held back a smile and teasingly ignored him, paging through the journal as Sam continued nudging his leg impatiently.

"You know, _normal people_ eat cereal in a bowl with milk," Dean said finally without looking at him.

He knew Sam was smiling, because the room suddenly got warmer.

"Pretty sure we're the _farthest_ from normal, Dean. And besides, we don’t have any milk. There’s nothing else to eat around here. I’ve been eating nothing but dry cereal and ramen noodles for the past two days."

Dean sighed and stuck his hand in the box and grabbed a handful of cereal and mumbled something along the lines of _annnnd the a+ parenting award goes to…_

"Personally, I think it’s better without the milk, anyway. Soggy cereal is gross. Much like your face," Sam teased.

Dean grinned. “Quite the charmer, you are,” he said after another handful of cereal, and Sam quietly giggled.

There was a moment of silence, and Dean wondered for a second where their dad was. Probably went to Bobby’s to vent to him about how much of a disappointment of a son he had. Suddenly he didn't really care anymore.

"We should run away together," Sam casually suggested.

A laugh ripped through Deans throat. “And where would we go, Sam?” Dean offered.

Sam looked at him curiously. “Europe.”

"Europe," Dean repeated playfully. Dean would have objected straight away saying how fucking ridiculous that was, but, christ, the excited look on Sam’s face and the way he spoke made Dean so helplessly _hypnotized_ all he could do was listen. Sam had a way of making everything seem possible when he spoke. The shitty, secluded lifestyle they lived faded to black and the fantasy Sam played out swam around in Dean's skull.

"We’ll go everywhere and anywhere. All over. We can go to Italy. Spain. Germany. The Netherlands. Just you and I. We'll live in a big house with too many rooms we won't ever use. You can own your own auto shop and fix up cars. We’ll be so rich we can’t stand it."

"And what are _you_ gonna do, hmm?” Dean hummed, casually brushing Sam's hair from his eyes.

Sam thought for a moment before looking at Dean and said with the brightest smile Dean's ever seen, “I’ll be your trophy husband.”

A smile slowly curled on Deans lips. He may never be good enough or a perfect solider in their dad’s eyes, but to Sam, he’s perfect. He’ll always accept him, regardless of his ability to shoot a fucking target.

Suddenly Dean’s picking Sam off the counter, grabbing the back of his thighs and lifting them up, and Sam laughed loudly and wrapped his arms around Dean's neck, and his legs around his waist. Sam was mumbling something on Dean’s lips as he was kissing him that sounded like _run away with me, baby, let’s go._


End file.
